We are back in the past. I know many of you wanted big drama in the last chapter, but things will make sense. Trust me :)
PS. Norman Reedus' cat, Eye in the Dark, (RIP) made it in this story. (acting career secured for the little guy) lol
I, myself, is a cat person. I have two and a dog.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
I've been watchin' you for some time
Can't stop starin' at those ocean eyes
Burning cities and napalm skies
Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes
Your ocean eyes
No fair
You really know how to make me cry
When you gimme those ocean eyes
I'm scared
I've never fallen from quite this high
Fallin' into your ocean eyes
Those ocean eyes
I've been walkin' through a world gone blind
Can't stop thinkin' of your diamond mind
Careful creature made friends with time
He left her lonely with a diamond mind
And those ocean eyes
Ocean Byes by Billie Eilish
Chapter 16 - Only Fair
It's been a week since you kissed Daryl and he hasn't made a single move on you. Not even a little bit. Part of you wonders if he thought that was a onetime thing. You were hoping he would show sign of interest, or even initiate it. Pffts, like that's going to happen. The last thing you want to do is rush him, so you let him move at his own pace. Uncomplicate things.
But you do make effort to hold his hand. The first time you did it is when you walked into In-and-Out Burger to pick up your food. His face had turned red, and he fidgeted the whole time, but nonetheless, he held on, hand sweaty.
Yesterday, he had randomly asked you if you wanted to go fishing. You've gone fishing once when you were much younger, tagged along with your dad and his political friends on one of their expensive boats. You remember being bored out of your mind, as they 'fished' which really means scheming and rubbing elbows with each other. Of course, when Daryl asked, you had given a very excited 'yes'.
So, here you are waiting at your usual pick-up spot.
You don't even think it was him when you first see the car.
"What the fuck is that!" you laugh, the moment you see Daryl's face pop out of the car window.
You have never seen a vehicle that screamed more, 'redneck' in your entire life, than the one Daryl is driving, and that's saying a lot for a state like Georgia. In front of you stands a beat-up red truck with a confederacy flag painted on the hood, a massive deer antler anchored to the roof of the car and large monster truck like tires customized to it.
"Yep, the redneck extraordinaire," Daryl says from the driver seat, sticking his hand out to slap the body of the car. "Now, come on and get ya ass in the car already."
The car is so high off the ground, you have to use some upper body strength to pull yourself up, laughing once you are inside. There is a lot of clutter, but what catches your attention is a ceramic ashtray in a shape of a naked woman with all the details painted. It sits right in the middle where the cupholder once was.
"Oh wow," you say picking it up, "is this Merle's car?" It's full of cigarette buds.
"Nah, s'my uncle Jess," he chuckles looking at what you're holding in your hands. "I borrowed it cause I need the truck bed." You hum, your eyes still looking around.
You adjust in the seat feeling something poke you, and from underneath your butt you pull a small can of cat food. "Your uncle has a cat?" you ask holding the little can with tuna flavor written on it.
"Nah, that's mine." He says glancing your way. Your eyebrow rises questionably.
"You have a cat?" This is the first time you're hearing this, even when you yapped about your bird, he has never mentioned.
"Nah, he ain't my cat." When he sees the confused look on your face, he explains. "He's just a cat. Stray."
"And you feed him?" You can't keep the smile off your face, your heart warms all the sudden.
"Only sometimes. Some fuckers left him in the woods, but they don't know he's a little gangster. He does well on his own." Of course, Daryl is the kind of man that would feed stray animal. Part of you also wonders if he relates to this mystery cat. If he sees himself in the little guy, abandoned in the wood with no one to come for him, with no one to look for him. As you sit there in the beat-up leather seat, unable to keep your eyes off him, you wonder how deep his kindness runs, his selflessness.
Your trail of thought is broken when the car shakes, as he pulls off the road into the bumpy dense forest. "Come," is all he says, grabbing the can of cat food when he gets out of the car. You follow, stumbling out of the passenger seat.
"Where are we? Are we not fishing at the bay?" You look around, and you are surrounded with nothing but trees. From the back of the truck, Daryl pulls a bucket and a fishing rod.
"Nah, too crowded. This's way better than the bay anyways." He tells you walking deeper into the forest. You track behind him, your eyes looking around.
"You know, I'm not really a woodsy kinda gal." You comment. He pauses mid step to look back at you, and you follow his eyes as he looks you up and down before he pffts with a laugh.
"What?" you say incredulously, glancing down at yourself again. You are wearing a crop top, summer shorts, and crisp white sneakers… hmm, perhaps the shorts might be a little too short.
"Ya half naked in the woods. Don't come crying to me if ya brush against a poison Ivy or get feasted on by mosquitos." You look down again all the sudden aware of the bushes your skin sweeping against.
"That's not fair! It's totally going to be your fault; you didn't say there is a dress code to where we're going." You whine, still tailing after him. "Besides, it's too hot for anything else."
"Yea, yea," he says exasperatedly. He stops to put his bucket and fishing rod down, "here." He takes off the flannel he's wearing on top of his white t-shirt and gives it to you. "Here tie this around your waist." You take it without a complain. It isn't much of a cover, but it's better than nothing.
It's a little scruffy black cat. The moment the little thing sees Daryl, it meows happily, his feet tapping as he rushes to the man.
"Sup big man," Daryl greets scratching him behind the ear, and you watch the little feral cat melt into the boy's hand. You take a step hoping to participate in the petting, and the moment the cat sees you, he lets out a hiss, tail puffing up into a ball. You raise your hands in surrender, as Daryl scolds the cat like he understands. It's adorable really.
"Bon appetit." Daryl says, placing the open can of food on the ground. The cat makes a slurping sound as he enthusiastically eats.
"Does he have a name?" you address Daryl, and he looks back at you from where he squats.
"He's quite the yapper, so been callin him, Meow Meow." He tells you, and you can't keep the laughter that slips from your throat.
"So, me naming my bird Scarlet is unoriginal, but you can't come up with a better name than Meow Meow?" He rolls his eyes at you, humor displaying on his face.
"Shit, he should be happy I even gave him a damn name." He snorts getting back to standing position.
With that said, you both give him a quick goodbye.
As you get back onto the small man-made trail, you are surprised when Daryl shift to grab your hand, while keeping the fishing rod and bucket in the other. This is the first time he made an effort to hold your hand, and you smile like a goofball, as he drags you behind.
"Why don't you take him home?" you question after a moment of silence, nothing but your footsteps crunching on the gravel road. It's obvious he cares for the cat, and you know indoor animals live longer.
"Nah, Merle and his fuckin friends will make him a shooting practice. He's better off here." He tsk at the thought. You raise your eyebrow. You heard many rumors about the older Dixon, Merle. You are curious about him, and you wonder if he's anything like Daryl.
"What's Merle like?" He huffs with a laugh, looking at you sideways.
"That asshole? No one you'll be interested in, trust me." You pout, sticking your bottom lip dramatically.
"No, tell me!" You poke him right in the ribs, and he flinches like it tickled him. He turns as if to give you a stern look, and you return it sticking your tongue out.
"There ain't really much to tell." He informs you, "He's one tough son-of-a-bitch, real redneck kind and he's part of a motorcycle gang." He huffs. "Savage Sons, they call themselves. Bunch of pussies if you ask me." You nod in respond. You wonder if Daryl picked up his love for motorcycle from his brother.
"That's kinda cool though, right? What does he do?" You ask, and he looks back at you with a smirk, tilting his head sideways.
"Nothin' the DA's daughter should know about." You retaliate immediately by poking him in the ribs hard.
"Ow, would you stop that!" You laugh holding your two fingers out in the air.
"There is more where that came from! Talk now or I'll poke you to death." You threaten, gesturing like you're about to strike again.
"Aight, damn," you squint your eyes at him, slowly lowering your hand. "He moves rocks, ok, happy?" He tells you incredulously.
"Oh, construction," you think out loud, which stops him dead in his track. He looks back at you with a smile on his face, and there is affection in the crinkle of his eyes. He lets go of your hand and pinch your cheeks, as if acknowledging your cuteness.
"Ow," you slap his hand away.
"I meant dope, you goofy." He laughs.
"Oh," that makes sense too.
You never thought teaching someone to fish could be so hot.
You heard it before you saw it. The creek is right in the heart of the forest, and you hiked for quite some time before you got to it. The running water is clear, in fact, it's so clear you can see the sand bed at the bottom. The sunlight peeks through the leaves in waves, illuminating across the river like some sort of holy light. It's beautiful, like untouched kind of beautiful. All you hear is nature talking, birds chirping, water splashing… and you take a deep breath, closing your eyes, and the air feels crisp. There is serenity here unmatched by the city.
"Like this" Daryl says showing you how to hook the worm on the fishing rod. "Careful, the tip is sharp." You nod your head, though you are not paying attention at all. How could you? He is standing right behind you, with both his hands covering yours. He is so close to you, and you could feel his chin brush against the top of your head. He moves his fingers to cover yours over the handle, your tiny delicate digits getting swallowed by his. You watch mesmerized as his warm, callous fingers run over yours. He brings your hand back, and together, you launch the hook.
You noticed he likes teaching you things whenever the opportunity presents. Whether changing the tire, or fixing the alternator, rolling a joint, or fishing, he likes showing you how…and he's proud when you catch it quick, or even when you don't.
"Now what," you whispered leaning back into him, his face now almost pressed to the crevice of your neck. You can feel his breath as it tickled down your back, and you can't help the goosebumps that rise a cross your arms. It's torture, the sweet, delicious kind of torture.
"We wait." He says, and your body shivers as his breath hits you again. You press your feet harder in the dirt, and you know this is going to haunt you later when you're alone in your bed. Perhaps a new fantasy to touch yourself too. It's almost unfair how unaffected he seems by you, and you know it's because his intention is pure…unlike you, you dirty whore. But you also wonder, if he ever touched himself to the thoughts of you. You immediately smack yourself mentally, trying to clear the visual of him, naked and hard in his own hand.
You can feel your body sweating. You are so worked up standing in front of him, and it's hard not to feel the dampness between your legs, your panties dripping wet.
Your heart beats, rushing all the blood through your veins, right to your head. Your pulse comes in hot waves, and you can feel something else pulsating deep in your woman hood. What's happening to you?
You couldn't take it anymore.
"I saw on tv," you say voice uneven, stumbling out of his arms. Anything to put some distance between you, before you throw yourself at him. "a technique called hand fishing. I think imma try that." You mumble, bending down to undo your shoelace. Maybe getting yourself in the water and cooling yourself will help.
"This ain't that kinda river but give it a shot." He tells you. The water is cold and rise to your knees. Underneath your feet, you can feel the hard pebbles and rough sand, and the rippling current gently dance against your skin.
"You say that now, but I bet you I can catch one." you smirk at him with a false bravado.
"you're on." He takes the bet.
"What do I get if I win?" You question, your interest peeking.
"Whatever you want." He tells you with confidence. Your eyes twitch, now you really want to catch one just to rub it in his face. Though he knows just as well as you do, that this might be an impossible task for someone who has never really been fishing.
"Alright, you're on!" You immediately make a face when he spits in the palm of his hand and brings it for a shake. Disbelievingly you do the same, slowly bringing your hand to his. You let out Eek after, rinsing your hand in the water. Boys…
You didn't realize how hard it is, and how fast the suckers' swim. Daryl lights up his joint watching you with humorous eyes as you cuss like a sailor every time a fish slips passed you. Meanwhile he had caught two. Your back hurt from the angle you are bending, eyes unblinking. With each miss, you are learning to adjust yourself, keeping your hands in the water so you're not diving every time one comes close, scaring them. You stand still, legs apart, hands low in the water. You always had steady hand, and you use it for your advantage.
"I GOT ONE!" You scream waking up every animal in the forest. It's a small, slippery thing, and you battle for dominance as it thrashed in your hands, fighting for its life. Right at that second, right by your feet you feel something moving. You don't know how you saw it; it's just by a coincidence.
The scream that leaves your throat is deafening even for yourself. Fear grips you, as you jump out of the water, fish tossed aside. You had scared Daryl and he moves towards you, dropping his fishing rod. He catches you as you throw yourself at him, arms to his neck. "SNAKE!" you screech climbing his body like a tree. You grip his shirt, your legs locked around his waist.
"What?" it takes him a second to catch what you said. "Ow, ya chokin me."
"Over there, in the water! It touched me!" your voice is shaking, and you point in the water, your body shuddering at the thought.
"Alright, alright." He places you down gently by his bucket where he kept his catch for the day. "I'll go check."
"Be careful," you call after him when he steps in the water after kicking off his shoes. He moves around, his eyes to the water, looking for the snake you probably scared off.
"Oh this?" just like that, he grabs the damn thing by his neck, it was hiding right next to a bolder, head sticking out of the water. "It's just a water snake, this ain't poisonous." It's brown patterned and long enough to be three feet.
He tries to walk closer to you, with the damn thing still in his hand, and you stumble back to the large tree behind you. "No, don't!" You shriek. This is not a teaching moment… he pauses when he looks at the real fear in your eyes, and you blink away your tears. You can see as the realization dawns on him, and he immediately chucks the snake across to the opposite side of the creek.
"Are you about to cry?" He tries to catch your eyes walking out of the water, and you look away.
"NO!" you huff. You were totally going to cry.
"Come 'eer, ya big baby!" He pulls you to him, holding you to his chest. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your head over his heart. It is comforting, as his hand rubs your back. You stay there for a moment or two.
"I totally caught the fish… you saw, right? I dropped it because of the snake." You whine. It was so hard to catch the fish, the little thing put a real fight, and you wonder if it would have stayed in your hands.
"Yea, I saw." You look up at him, eyes beaming,
"So, I win right?" your voice held excitement, snake forgotten.
"Sure." He gives in.
"Yes!" you step back from him, air fist bumping. "Hmm, whatever I want huh." You say, voice dropping mischievously, smirk playing on your lips. "What to pick, what to pick…limitless choices." You hum and he rolls his eyes at you. Just then, a thought from earlier crosses your mind and immediately you know what you want… it's only fair.
"Perhaps," you say pushing him back, and he staggers into the tree, surprised, and you step into him, "I could use a massage, or a piggyback ride all the way to the car." You hum again pressing your chest against him.
"What-" you shhh him, pressing a hand to his mouth.
"Don't interrupt the winner." You try not to laugh at the look on his face. With the same hand you grab his chin. When your face moves closer, he shifts on the ground like he's nervous. "Or, maybe, I'll take a kiss as my winning prize." When your nose touch, he closes his eyes, breath warm against your face. But you don't kiss him like he's expecting. You turn his head to aside, exposing his neck. You hover, breathing softly on his neck, and you can feel how he shifts underneath you. His hands move to your waist, fingers drifting across your stomach where your crop-top ends.
The warmth of his fingers sets you on fire, and you place your mouth open on him, with no mercy. You bite, your teeth gently tugging on the vein that leaps on his neck. You release the skin, before you swap your tongue over it, gently sucking and kissing his salty skin. You pull back and feel his whole-body shake, his fingers digging into your skin, and a noise leaving his mouth. A noise that sounds a lot like a moan. A noise you mind captures for later use. You go for his neck one more time, your tongue traveling from the juncture of his collar to the tip of his earlobe.
You step back, leaving him leaning against the tree, eyes closed, fist clinched, body trembling, and chest gasping for air. It's only fair he's tortured too… take that home with you for later use, you tell him in your head.
"You like that didn't you, you perv?" You whisper to him, and it awakes him from whatever spell you had put him. Your laughter echoes as he stands there wide-eyed.
"Oh, ya think your funny, hah" he pushes off from the tree, body moving as if he's looking for something. "Where is that fuckin snake?"
"No! I was just joking!" you hug him from behind, muffling your laughter in his shirt.
Notes:
The details about Merle is from the Walking dead video game. It's mentioned there that Merle is the leader of 'savage sons motorcycle club.'